


Let Me See Your "O" Face

by 3988Akasha



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Chris is a model struggling to get the right face for a shoot. Zach helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me See Your "O" Face

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by bones_2_be I can't ~~blame~~ thank her for inspiring this one, it's all on me... 

“Chris, I can’t work like this,” the irritated photographer whined. “You’re not giving me anything. I need you to give me something. I’m on a deadline, sweetie.”

Chris groaned and raked a hand through his hair, which he realized belatedly he probably shouldn’t have done, but fuck if he wasn’t already screwing up this photo shoot. It’s not like he hadn’t done one before, he had, and successfully. There just wasn’t any synergy between himself and the photographer. It made it harder to perform.

“I know, I know,” Chris answered, frustration tainting his voice.

“I need you to look at the camera like you’re turned on, you know, from good sex, not like someone just donkey punched you.”

Chris rolled his eyes. He understood the concept of good sex. What he didn’t understand was the setup. He was in the most uncomfortable pair of pants ever invented in this history of textiles. The lighting was wrong, and always landed in his eyes, which were, of course, meant to be upturned in pure adoration, or, lust. Whatever. Apparently, he was incapable of offering either. He’d tried imagining various women he’d been with in the recent past. When that hadn’t worked, he’d switched to some rather inebriated nights he’d spend with men. Inebriation was typically a precursor to him sleeping with a guy not because he was unsure, or ashamed or anything, no. It was because he was chicken shit and it usually took half a dozen shots before he was ready to hit on a guy. He wasn’t exactly a man whore, but he did have a healthy sex life, no shame in that. The problem was none of his imaginings could help him fake it for the camera.

“Of course,” the photographer told one of his assistants, “Have him come on back. I should be finished here soon. He might just not have any shots to take with him. I was told I wouldn’t get any more fuckwits. Clearly I was lied to.”

Chris wanted to roll his eyes, again, but the action would be redundant. He didn’t want to add redundant to his inability to perform. Then he’d feel truly pathetic.

“Certainly you’re not referring to me,” a deep, male voice said from the doorway.

“Of course not, Zach,” the photographer replied.

Chris snorted. The photographer’s tone practically drowned in sycophantic overtones. Might as well just drop and open his mouth, save his vocal chords. The image made Chris feel vindicated. And a little dirty. But, mostly just better.

“Is this a double shoot?” The man, Zach, Chris’ mind supplied, asked.

“No. We’re trying to salvage something useful from this train wreck of a shoot,” the photographer said with a sneer.

Chris flipped him off. He couldn’t help it. When he felt himself being appraised, that weird sixth sense feeling, like fingers trailing up his spine, but in a creepy there’s someone in the closet kinda way, he turned to face Zach. He nearly missed it, but there was humor lurking in the dark eyes. Dark eyes currently traveling the length of his body. His eyes were chocolate brown – intense. They lingered over certain areas of Chris’ anatomy, and Chris smirked. He knew he was hot, models were; it was a requirement. Besides, there was no harm in a fellow sex-on-two-legs male checking him out. Without being told to do so, his legs moved him towards the other man. It was like once their eyes had locked, he’d been caught.

When he licked his lips, simply a habit, he heard the camera shudder go off somewhere.

“Do you have a name?”

Chris had turned to find the camera, but his face snapped back to the other man when he heard his velvet smooth voice.

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Zach.”

Unable to speak, Chris swallowed convulsively. Eyes wide, Chris watched Zach push away from the wall. Unsure of why he felt so threatened, or aroused, or both, he began moving backwards, away from the intensity in Zach’s eyes. Instead of figuring out what the fuck was going on, he focused all his energy on moving backwards without tripping over his feet and landing on his ass. That would be more mortifying than he was prepared to deal with after a shitty photo shoot. Now, if he’d stopped to think about what was going on, he might have wondered why this man’s predatory gaze made him back away. He didn’t think about that. In fact, he wasn’t really thinking of anything except perhaps how much he liked the look in the man’s eyes. The way Zach’s gaze made his stomach to tighten, the way his chest felt heavy and warm whenever Zach’s gaze drifted lower than Chris’ eyes.

His back collided with the wall and his air left him in a woosh. He heard the shudder click again. This time, he didn’t bother to look. He couldn’t look away. He licked his lips again, and allowed himself to feel pleasure ripple through him at the way Zach’s eyes darkened.

“What seems to be the problem with your photographs, Christopher?” Zach asked, voice pitched low.

For several seconds, Chris simply blinked at Zach. There was maybe an inch between their bodies from toe to pate. And fuck if his body wasn’t responding in all the wrong places to the proximity, not that he had any desire to move away. Which he should. If he had any sense of self-preservation, a shred of dignity, he’d move away. Instead, he looked back into Zach’s eyes, noticing how his eyelashes shadowed his eyes beneath thick, dark brows.

“He w-wants to see my ‘o’ face,” Chris managed.

When Zach’s sultry chuckle registered in Chris’ brain, he felt himself blush to the tips of his ears.

“I don’t blame him, Christopher,” Zach mused, eyes assessing.

Chris felt his heart hammer a staccato beat against his ribcage.

Zach moved his face closer, his lips brushing against the shell of Chris ear. “What a pity, Christopher. I imagine you have a glorious ‘o’ face. Am I right? I’m sure you look incredible blissed out of your mind, eyes blown wide, mouth slightly open, lips swollen, red, puffy – perfect.”

Thankful for the solid wall behind him, Chris silently willed his now raging hard on to dissipate. The pants were tight enough before the boner. With one, he was lucky blood was still able to circulate through his legs. He couldn’t believe this stranger’s words were getting him this fucking aroused, but they were. Each hot wisp of breath across the shell of his ear sent a shiver of excitement down his spine and when Zach talked about his lips being kissed swollen, his fucking toes had curled.

“In fact,” Zach continued. His face came impossibly closer to Chris’.

Chris wanted to beat his head against the wall, or mindlessly rut against the body in front of him, maybe he’d do both.

“I wonder if your lips taste as good as they look. I understand why they want photos of you, Christopher – ”

He lost the rest of Zach’s sentence, his mind still reeling from the way Zach’s lips worked his name. Few people called him Christopher, but damn if there wasn’t pure sex in the way Zach rolled his name off his tongue.

The tongue under assessment was currently tracing along the seam of his lips. Chris cursed himself. He’d been too busy mentally masticating about Zach’s voice and the things it did to his body that he completely missed the first brush of Zach’s lips against his own. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he was in the middle of a photo shoot with at least a dozen people wandering around the area, but when Zach gently bit down on his lower lip, he stopped thinking entirely.

“That’s it, Christopher,” Zach whispered against his lips. “I never thought you’d quit thinking.”

This time when Zach brushed his lips against Chris’, he responded. When Zach’s tongue traced along his lower lip, Chris parted his lips, silently begging Zach to deepen the kiss. Zach licked his way into Chris’ mouth, tracing the contours of slowly, as if they had all the time in the world just to explore each other’s mouths. Zach’s mouth was demanding on his, and he plundered his mouth, staking his claim. For the life of him, Chris couldn’t remember the last time he’d been kissed so well. Later, he’d blame his lack of adequate kisses for his lack of fortitude and propriety. Later, when Zach’s hands weren’t hot and needy on his biceps, when Zach’s lips weren’t kissing a line down his neck. When he wasn’t savoring the unique flavor of Zach on his tongue. Later, when he was at home lying in the middle of his bed, jacking off to the memory of Zach’s hot body pressed up against him. Later.

The needy moan that escaped Chris’ lips wasn’t his. No. He was manly and made manly noises, like grunts. Maybe the occasional mumbled, inarticulate curse. Not breathy little moans of pleasure. Then Zach sucked on his tongue and Chris’ knees went weak, as his body registered what that mouth would feel like on his dick. Okay, he admitted to himself, the breathy moans were from him, but if they encouraged Zach to do more of those wicked things with his tongue, then he was all for it. And, if he moaned a little deeper, well, that was just strategy.

Zach’s hands moved to Chris’ hips, his thumbs rubbing the bit of exposed skin right above his hipbones. Chris’ back bowed slightly, his head tilted back against the wall. Zach’s description of his ‘o’ face kept replaying over in his mind and he had a brief narcissistic moment where he wondered if Zach was right. He could feel his dick pressing painfully against the confines of the damned jeans they’d forced him to shimmy into for the godforsaken photo shoot.

“I want to see how accurate my description was, Christopher,” Zach breathed against Chris’ ear.

Chris shivered, and his hips bucked against Zach. Goddamned mind reader. His lips curved into a smug smile when he felt the evidence of Zach’s arousal against his thigh. It was comforting to know he wasn’t the only one deeply affected by a complete stranger. He hadn’t been this close to premature ejaculation without so much as a hand job since junior high. Zach’s laughter rumbled through his chest. Chris desperately wanted to do something, specifically push Zach to his knees and hope he was smart enough to take a hint, but his hands were firmly planted against the wall, where they’d been since Zach had backed him into it. Fuck.

Then again, perhaps Zach was clairvoyant. He was going to protest the lack of lips against his when Zach lithely slid to his knees in front of Chris. Somewhere in the background, Chris could hear the sounds of the camera clicking away. It should bother him, this exhibitionist behavior, but instead his dick just jerked forward in his pants, seeking Zach’s mouth. Zach simply laughed again and petted his dick. Patronizing bastard.

“You should see yourself, Christopher,” Zach’s voice slid over Chris’ senses.

One of Zach’s hands snaked around and grabbed a handful of Chris’ ass while the other rubbed against his erection.

“Oh god,” Chris gasped.

It was the first coherent sentence he’d been able to articulate since he’d set eyes on Zach. Now Zach was on his knees, palming his dick and massaging his ass. And fuck if it wasn’t quite possibly the most singularly sexually stimulating experience of his life. Adding the knowledge that a room full of people could watch their impromptu soft porn exhibition, he might just cream his pants like a twelve-year-old girl. While the Zach was basically a stranger, he somehow knew he’d enjoy Chris coming in his pants.

“Do you want to come, Christopher?”

And why did he keep saying his name like that? It wasn’t fair for a man to turn his uninteresting name into an oath, a sexual innuendo and a prayer simultaneously. Just. Wasn’t. Fair. Meanwhile, below his belt, Zach was rubbing his hand up and down Chris length. More of those little moans were escaping Chris’ lips. Then Zach’s hand brushed along that spot on his ass. Chris silently added omnipotent to Zach’s list of god-esque traits.

When blunt teeth nipped his hip, Chris cried out brokenly.

“You haven’t answered my question, Christopher. That’s rude.”

Did he? Ostensibly, yes. He wanted to come. Did he want to come in his pants? In front of a room full of people? There was another nip at his hip, followed by Zach’s tongue, then Zach was sucking the exposed skin and suddenly Chris didn’t care about the people, or the camera, or his fucking pants. Actually, a perverse side of him relished the thought of soiling the pants with his come – it was petty, but whatever he was feeling a bit bitchy.

“Fuck, yes, goddamnit,” Chris told Zach.

Cold air swept across Chris’ hip when Zach moved his mouth down to Chris’ denim covered dick.

“Oh god,” Chris gasped.

Zach’s mouth worked Chris’ length from base to tip, leaving a trail of wet spots behind. Zach hollowed his cheeks and used his fucking tongue against the head of his dick, and seriously, his eyes crossed. The other hand continued to knead Chris’ ass and then Zach managed to work a finger over his hole and pressed against it in the filthiest way. He hoped his face had the “good sex” expression the photographer was looking for because he heard the shudder go off again.

“I want you to come for me, Christopher. Here in front of a room full of people, in your pants, show me how much you’re aroused by my attentions.”

“Fucker,” Chris spit out seconds before he felt his balls tighten.

Then, just like Zach wanted, he shot his load in his pants. When the wetness spread, staining the jeans beyond repair, Chris felt Zach licking at his dick again. Knowing his eyes were blown, just like Zach imagined, he looked down to see Zach, mouth on the come staining his jeans, looking up at him. It was one of the hottest things Chris had ever seen in his life. He still wanted to know what those lips would feel like against his skin.

“Maybe later, Christopher,” Zach said as he stood, indulgent smile on his lips.

Chris felt himself blush, which was amazing considering he’d just lost it in his pants from a fully clothed hand and mouth job, but he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Maybe he hadn’t said it aloud. It could be Zach’s omnipotence.

“Apparently you do know what good sex looks like, Chris,” the photographer said.

Finally able to move his hand from the wall, Chris flipped off the photographer for good measure. When he could move, Chris fully intended to take up Zach on his offer.

 

~FIN~


End file.
